


Tutor

by Ailette



Category: Sexy Zone
Genre: Alternate Universe, Imported, M/M, tutor!Kento
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-06-05 06:10:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6692710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailette/pseuds/Ailette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fuma has a crush on his brother's home tutor - one Nakajima Kento (who doesn't seem very impressed by him).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tutor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [givemeyoursmile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/givemeyoursmile/gifts).



> (Originally posted at http://ailette.livejournal.com/82046.html)  
> A/N: Good thing the rest of last year's Christmas fics aren't actually Christmas themed! :Db For Michelle, the most wonderful person I ever met in any fandom. ♥

Theoretically, Fuma has a legit reason to want to check in on his brother while he’s doing his homework. No one would think it weird for him to just knock on the door and walk in. Especially since he does it every single week, every single Monday at roughly the same time. It’s perfectly normal older brother behavior.  
  
So Fuma nods to himself, once, and then sticks his head through the door, eyes immediately zeroing in on the desk and the two people in front of it.  
  
And _that’s_ the problem, he thinks. He isn’t here because of his Towa at all. He’s here because of his home tutor.  
  
Awkwardly clearing his throat, he draws Kento’s attention, making him turn his head and bowing lightly with a polite smile in greeting; making Fuma’s stomach and heart and facial muscles do all sorts of funny things before he manages a nod back.  
  
Nakajima Kento, 19, university student, smart, the most ridiculously attractive and charming person Fuma has ever met. He’s only one year older than Fuma and really, this is the perfect set up, isn’t it? Right out of a teenage romance novel.  
  
“Hey, sorry to interrupt. Just wanted to check if maybe you’d like some coffee or something…?”  
  
There’s only one tiny problem with this perfect set up, he thinks, as Kento smiles brilliantly – and shakes his head.  
  
“I’d feel bad if I took a break during tutoring. Your parents are paying me, after all.”  
  
“Right,” Fuma nods, trying not to laugh bitterly because he’s been getting that same response every single time since he first worked up the courage to casually ask a few weeks ago. “I’ll let you get back to it, then.”  
  
Kento nods and without so much as a wave for Fuma he busily leans back over Towa and focuses on math problems again, completely oblivious to the older brother softly closing the door behind him and fighting the urge to bang his head against the wood afterwards.  
  
Fuma doesn’t think he’s arrogant, but it’s a complete mystery to him how he can be repeatedly turned down like that, time and again. He knows he isn’t bad looking – he works out a lot and takes care of his appearance. He’s not exactly a bad catch either, as a Keio student. He’s been told often enough that he’s charming, makes friends left, right and center without even trying and gets confessions at least a couple of times  a month. And yet. Nakajima Kento apparently couldn’t care less.  
  
He’s been coming over as a tutor for almost three months now and the most Fuma has managed to talk to him was when he first started and they had to wait for Fuma’s little brother to come home from shopping with his dad (who, as an artist, never quite seemed to have understood the need for watches and being on time). It had been awkward, to say the least, with Fuma checking the time every couple of minutes (he had somewhere to be) and Kento sitting in the middle of the huge leather sofa across the table from him, nervously fidgeting with his jeans.  
  
Eventually, Fuma had gotten fed up with sitting around in silence and put on some music without asking – only to find Kento perk up and mutter about quite liking that band. Now, if there was any sure fire way for someone to get Fuma’s attention, it was by talking about music. It turned out that they didn’t share many of the same favourite bands or singers, but he liked the way Kento expressed his opinion and explained why he liked some artists that usually would make Fuma sneer and turn his nose up.  
  
He wasn’t sure how the topic had changed from Kento promising to bring over some CDs for Fuma to listen to next time to clothes and uni and family, but it did so naturally. As he listened and argued, he realized that they could barely agree on anything, apparently total opposites in all their interests, but he found himself fascinated by it instead of turned off. Before he knew it, he had almost completely stopped talking himself and just hung onto every word leaving Kento’s lips. That was, until the door to the living room opened and Kento jumped as two more members of the Kikuchi family stepped inside. Much too fast for Fuma’s liking he had excused himself to talk over some details of his assignment with Fuma’s father and eventually vanished into his little brother’s room, leaving Fuma alone in his realization that they had just talked for two hours straight without even noticing.  
  
It had taken one more hour and seeing Kento smile and wave at him shyly before he left for Fuma to notice that he was smiling like an idiot and waving back before he dropped his spoon into his caramel pudding with shock as he realized that he had fallen head over heels for the other man in a matter of hours.  
  
Since then… no progress had been made at all.  
  
But as Fuma glares at the brightly coloured name plate on his brother’s door, he balls his fists and shakes his head. He’s not going to give up this easily. So Kento is a little goody-two-shoes and takes his stupid little job too seriously – that doesn’t mean he has ever actually _explicitly_ turned Fuma down. He’s probably just a little slow on the uptake. So all Fuma has to do, is be more direct, to make sure his intention can’t be misunderstood.  
  
His opportunity comes when he hears soft footsteps down the hall, passing his own room and moving towards the front door. Rushing out, he shoos Towa back into his room and ignores the pout and unhappy frown he gets in return before quickly following down the stairs to more or less casually lean against the wall to watch as Kento puts his shoes on in the entryway.  
  
“You always leave exactly on time, don’t you? Do you have any more students after this?”  
  
Kento looks up in surprise as Fuma’s voice reaches him. “Um. No, I just… I need to get my own stuff done as well, so I try to hurry back home.”  
  
“Do you have to hurry back home every day or is there some time you’re free?”  
  
There’s a shrug before Kento turns his attention back to his shoe laces, replying almost absently, “I’m free on Thursdays, I guess. Since I don’t have any classes then and usually just sleep in…”  
  
“Want to go for a coffee on Thursday then?” Fuma can see the way Kento’s movements slow down, usually nimble fingers suddenly messing up the bow they’d manage without Kento even paying attention and just as he’s about to turn back, Fuma awkwardly clears his throat and announces, “I’m asking you out here, in case you’re wondering, so coffee is actually optional.”  
  
Fuma halfway expects Kento to turn back around, this time to stare at him with big confused eyes like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. He expects a sputter and maybe a blush – what he gets is Kento squaring his shoulders before getting to his feet and nodding absently.  
  
“Sure. Just mail me, your mother has my address. See you.”  
  
Fuma doesn’t even manage to return the good-bye before the front door falls shut behind the other man, leaving him standing there with his mouth hanging slightly open until his brother sneaks down the stairs to ask if he’s allowed in the rest of the house again now.  
  
***  
  
If he thought Kento was going to be less weird when they met up in front of the little café on the outskirts of the city, he was sadly mistaken. If anything, it’s even weirder when, almost twenty minutes late, Kento shows up, musters him with a less than impressed look and just nods towards the café in resignation as he mutters,  
  
“Right, you’re actually here.”  
  
It’s a statement Fuma doesn’t know what to do with and he isn’t given any time to think either as he has to hurry after the older man. Something isn’t right here.  
  
The feeling only gets stronger as they queue, order, wait and let Fuma pay for their drinks without exchanging a word, Kento looking a strange mixture of bored, annoyed and something Fuma can’t quite put his finger on even after they’ve sat down in one of the little booths towards the back. It’s an expression he’s sometimes seen flicker across Kento’s face when he came into Towa’s room, never knowing what to make of it since the other man always seemed to quickly hide it behind a polite smile. Only now it seems a little more obvious, because for once the other man isn’t wearing his thick-rimmed glasses and the expression doesn’t change.  
  
“My mother thinks I’m asking you for help with my own uni homework, you know. If she asks you next time, please pretend that you have even just one class that I have,” Fuma eventually says, voice too high and words coming out too fast; nerves getting the better of him as he watches Kento stir his Frappuccino in silence.  
  
When all he gets in response is a disinterested hum, he adds, “Because I had to ask her for your number, y’know.”  
  
Another nod, no noise at all this time. “I’m not used to having to run it by her when I want someone’s number.”  
  
Kento takes a sip from his cup, eyes firmly on the liquid inside and Fuma can feel the way his fingers are clenching around his own, like he naturally wants to ball them into fists. He can’t help the way his voice turns a little icier with the next words.  
  
“I’m also not used to getting ignored like this on a date.”  
  
That, finally, gets Kento to glance at him over the rim of his cup, albeit only for a second before big brown eyes dart away again, making Fuma’s frown deepen.  
  
“How long are you going to keep this up? I mean, I appreciate that you invited me for a drink instead of just punching me in the face and yell at me to get out, but really, there are simpler ways to make me quit tutoring your brother. You could’ve just asked.” Kento sighs and shakes his head, taking a quick gulp. “No one ever just asks. It’s always theatrics like this.”  
  
Of all the things Fuma expected to hear, this is so far off the list that he just stares at Kento in complete confusion for a good full minute before he finally stutters out a, “What?”  
  
“Asking me out like this. I get that you have issues with me, but I don’t get the point of all this. You know about me, you don’t want me around your little brother, okay, but why not just-”  
  
Fuma holds up a hand, the other flying to his temple to rub circles into his skin, possibly trying to keep an oncoming headache away. “Wait. What? What the hell are you even talking about?”  
  
For the first time that day, the expression on Kento’s face changes. There’s a flutter of confusion passing over it as wide eyes meet Fuma’s almost hesitatingly.  
  
“You’re about to ask me to quit, aren’t you? Because you found out about me.”  
  
“Found out what about you?”  
  
Kento blinks. “That I’m gay.”  
  
It’s Fuma’s turn to not reply to that, too baffled to be able to conjure up words. Instead, he looks down at the table, picks up his drink with mechanic movements and empties half of it in one drag without even noticing whether it’s still hot or already cold. They both wince slightly when the cup comes back down on the table a little too forcefully, making the liquid inside splash around and almost spill over.  
  
“I didn’t know you were interested in guys, I just tried my luck with asking you out.” Fuma’s voice sounds odd even to his own ears, a little dazed and off.  
  
“You’re telling me that you didn’t think I was skeezing on your little brother and instead just asked me out for the hell of it,” Kento says drily, voice dripping with disbelief and Fuma can’t believe this conversation is actually happening.  
  
“Are you telling me you’re into little boys?”  
  
“No!” Kento’s vehement denial is loud enough to make some of the people closest to them turn their heads curiously and Kento awkwardly shrinks back further into his seat, cheeks dusting red and for a moment, Fuma is distracted by the sight.  
  
 The next words to leave Kento’s mouth are muttered quietly enough that Fuma has to lean over the table to catch them properly. “Then you don’t want me to quit?”  
  
Fuma shakes his head, absently pushing some long strands of black hair back out of his face when they fall in front of his eyes at the motion, absently noting how Kento’s eyes follow the movement.  
  
Eventually Kento gathers himself to meekly argue, “But you kept coming in while I was studying with Towa! I must have told you that I didn’t want coffee a million times! Why would you do that if you weren’t suspicious?”  
  
Fuma gapes at him. “Because I wanted to talk to you without Towa around!”  
  
“But why?”  
  
“Because I like you, you moron!”  
  
They stare at each other silently after that, Fuma feeling out of breath like he’d taken a run around the block rather than sit here and argue over the most asinine thing he’s ever heard and Kento slowly blushing further until it reaches his ears and he softly asks,  
  
“So this is actually a real date?”  
  
Fuma huffs. “I’d say ‘obviously’, but I’m not sure anymore what ‘obviously’ means for you.”  
  
“ _Oh_ ,” Kento makes, voice going impossibly quieter as his hands tighten around his cup, nervously playing with it as he avoids Fuma’s eyes once more, for an entirely different reason this time.  
  
“Why would you even think something like that,” Fuma asks, more musing out loud than actually expecting an answer. Then he reconsiders some of the things the other man had said. “Did that actually happen to you before?”  
  
Kento goes rigid in his seat, eventually nodding stiffly. “Three times.” There’s a small pause where brown eyes muster Fuma’s face calculatingly, as if to gaugewhether he should reveal more. “The first time a father saw me with my then boyfriend and started yelling at me in the middle of a shopping mall about how sick I had to be and that he didn’t want me around his son ever again. The second time I got punched in the face by the older brother. You don’t wanna hear about the third. Oh, and that boyfriend? Broke up with me without even asking what was going on.”  
  
Fuma inhales sharply, hands suddenly itching to reach out and run his fingers over Kento’s face, to make sure there are no hidden wounds or bruises left. “Who would do something like that?”  
  
Maybe it’s the darkness or incredulousness of his tone, maybe it’s the disbelief; he doesn’t know. But something makes Kento’s head snap up abruptly to glare at him. “You’re friends with the second guy. I saw you together one or two weeks after I started tutoring Towa-kun. That’s why I thought…”  
  
His voice trails off again, gaze awkwardly flickering to the side and not meeting Fuma’s when he asks for a name and explains that he knows the guy because they went to middle school together, but haven’t actually had any contact since. Of course, he had no idea that there was any kind of connection to Kento whatsoever.  
  
“Man, and I just wanted to go on a date with a cute guy,” Fuma eventually grumbles before lifting his cup and emptying it; the contents definitely cold now, making him grimace.  
  
“Sorry,” Kento whispers, looking entirely miserable, shrunk back into his seat and coat so that his neck has almost entirely vanished, blinking suspiciously often against bright eyes. “I guess I fucked this up royally.”  
  
To his own surprise, Fuma finds himself sighing and shaking his head. “I guess it’s understandable to jump to conclusions with those experiences. But you could just try and make it up to me now instead of sticking your head in the sand, you know.”  
  
Another slow blink and then, finally, the corner of Kento’s mouth starts to lift ever so slightly.  
  
“I’ll pay for the next round?”  
  
***  
  
They end up not really drinking their next round of chai latte and cappuccino either, too busy trying to find their way back to talking like normal people who didn’t just have a freak-out over something neither of them wants to be reminded of in the near future. It’s surprisingly easy, once they get past the awkwardness and Kento’s remaining embarrassment, allowing them to chat freely like they did that first time they met.  
  
It feels only a little different when Kento suddenly reaches across the table to steal Fuma’s cup and take a sip, licking his lips with a considering expression on his face as he lowers it again and gestures for Fuma to try his if he wants to. Fuma shrugs and does, caught off guard when Kento suddenly brightly chirps,  
  
“Indirect kiss.”  
  
He ends up coughing into the cup, quickly setting it down and wiping his mouth from all the foam collected around his lips. When Kento looks almost disappointed at the gesture, he quickly shakes his head. They really don’t need any more misunderstandings today.  
  
“I’m more the direct type,” he says with a grin and a leer that makes Kento laugh and blush at the same time.  
  
Fuma likes the way Kento laughs. It’s like his entire face lights up, eyes crinkling and lips stretching over white teeth that make Fuma want to reach out, pull Kento across the table and kiss him so he can run his tongue over them.  It’s all the excuse he needs to keep trying to amuse Kento as they make their way out of the café, very pleased with himself when Kento is almost sobbing with laughter and leaning onto his shoulder heavily by the time they reach their next destination.  
  
Wiping tears from his eyes, Kento looks around with some curiosity, not having paid too much attention to where they were going and surprised to now find themselves in a karaoke bar. He shoots Fuma another grin and wiggles onto the bench, shrugging off his coat and making a grab for the catalogue of songs to flick through before the other man has even closed the door behind him.  
  
“What do you wanna sing? I know you said you like One Ok Rock before, but I only know the lyrics to like one of their songs, so maybe we can do that o-”  
  
Kento stops when he feels Fuma press close to his side, his arms coming up to encircle his waist and surround him with warmth that feels even better than the heated karaoke room had after the cold outside.  
  
“Oh,” he says quietly as he turns his head to find Fuma’s face mere centimeters from his own, dark brown eyes observing his reaction closely, just the slightest hint of insecurity hidden in them. Kento knows just the right method to make that go away though and closes the small distance between them to press his mouth to Fuma’s, smiling softly at the soft exhale of breath against his lips.  
  
As first kisses go, this one is surprisingly good and uncomplicated; lips moving against each other easily, like they’ve never done anything else. They’re both smiling when they part, Fuma sheepishly and Kento looking more pleased with himself than anything.  
  
“You don’t want to sing, huh,” he says accusatorily, as if he actually has any problem with it.  
  
Fuma snorts softly, choosing to believe in the way Kento’s whole body has turned towards him instead, long fingers finding their way to Fuma’s biceps. “We can do that, too. Later.”  
  
Kento tilts his head for easier access when Fuma leans in to kiss him again, allowing his lips to be parted easily when a sneaky tongue runs over them. He likes the way Fuma kisses, all push and shove and eagerness mixed with a gentleness that makes it incredibly enjoyable to reciprocate in the same manner.  
  
“Guess we can’t do that in your home,” Kento eventually mutters, slightly out of breath and reaching up to run a hand through Fuma’s soft long hair, twirling a strand around his finger and tugging playfully; causing Fuma to half-heartedly growl in response and arms to tighten around him. He’ll have to keep that reaction in mind for other occasions.  
  
“I’ll come and kidnap you from my brother’s room from now on.”  
  
The smirk on Fuma’s face makes Kento chuckle, shaking his head mildly in amusement. “I’m not _your_ tutor.” He waits just long enough for Fuma to open his mouth to protest before he adds, “Though I guess I could teach you some _very nice things_.”  
  
It’s worth it to see Fuma snap his mouth shut and eyes widen, clearly not having anticipated the innuendo. “You’re evil.”  
  
“You said I was cute,” Kento reminds him with a coy batting of his lashes, making Fuma snort.  
  
“Oh, you remember that part, do you?”  
  
They predictably don’t get much singing done, but neither of them minds. As they part inside the station, Kento waving shyly before Fuma rolls his eyes and pulls him in for a not so quick kiss instead, Kento reminds him that they’ll see each other on Monday anyway. It doesn’t make Fuma let go of him any sooner. Kento seems reluctant to be this affectionate in public for long though and Fuma doesn’t miss the way he glances around nervously when they’re not wrapped up in each other anymore. It’s something he’ll have to make sure Kento gets used to again, Fuma decides, and obnoxiously kisses him on the mouth once more before dashing off with a grin. He counts it as a first small victory that Kento can’t hide the way his smile broadens.  
  
***  
  
Towa doesn’t mind that his tutor gets stolen away from him at every opportunity, but eventually Fuma’s mother puts her foot down and forbids Fuma from sneaking into Towa’s room and locking his brother out to get his tutor by himself. Kento, the traitor, agrees with a serious nod, reminding Fuma that he’s there to teach Towa and that they can spend time together other opportunities – making Kikuchi-san nod and mutter about her son not deserving such a good boyfriend (miraculously missing it when Kento smirks and sticks his tongue out at Fuma in a way that is not at all childish and makes him cover Towa’s eyes with a mock-scandalized gasp).


End file.
